The Crystal Heart

by Sophie Masson

  Izolda

  He was in hell – a hell I understood, for I had faced it too, in the Tower. I had been alone, friendless, with no hope and no love – until Kasper came along.

  ‘Commander,’ I said gently, ‘do you remember how the old feyin witch had shown your true nature to you?’ I slipped the crystal on its string over my head and held it in my palm.

  He looked at me warily, but made no answer.

  ‘How?’ said my father. Looking at his face, I saw an expression that puzzled me.

  It was Kasper who answered. ‘The blue light flashed, the light that shows when a feyin touches it.’

  ‘Something else, too,’ I reminded him.

  ‘The lights went out … in the darkness we were able to escape –’

  ‘Something else again.’

  I saw the answer dawn in Kasper’s eyes. ‘The two halves of the crystal came together.’

  ‘Yes, and the crystal heart was made whole again.’ I moved closer to Kasper. ‘Do you know what that means, my love?’

  He took me by the hand and said, ‘Yes.’ For he knew exactly what it meant, and what we must do.

  ‘Dear Father,’ I said, turning to him, ‘you asked us before to give the last word. Are you ready to hear it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘The crystal heart itself has shown us the way. A new beginning cannot start in blood and revenge, but only …’ I looked at my love.

  ‘By making whole what was broken,’ finished Kasper. ‘The Commander says he expects no mercy. Yet mercy cannot be something to expect, but something that is given freely.’

  ‘And that is what we ask, Father,’ I put in. ‘We do not say he should not be punished. We do not say there should be easy forgiveness. We only ask for mercy, for our sake, and in remembrance of my loving mother.’

  ‘No,’ said the Commander. ‘No …’ His expression was changing, his eyes full of pain, his mouth trembling. Flinging himself onto one knee before my father, he cried, ‘This is cruelty beyond all bearing, Prince. If there truly is any mercy in your heart, grant me a swift death.’

  My father smiled. It was a smile such as I had very rarely seen on his face before, a smile that lightened his whole face. Leaning down to the Commander, he said, very clearly and steadily, ‘That is the one thing I cannot grant, for you have died once already, brother.’

  And in the dead silence that followed his words, he held out a hand to the stricken Commander, raising him to his feet.

  Brother. How could that be? I could not have heard right. The same shock was in Kasper’s face. Only the men of Almain were not shocked. It was clear this was no surprise to them. They knew, but the Commander did not. Helplessly, he allowed himself to be guided to a chair. Staring blankly at the wall, he hardly seemed to listen as my father spoke of a terrible, chilling truth that was buried long ago, and only learned by him in news the Erlking had brought from Almain. The older brother he never knew, who had supposedly died from illness as a small child in Krainos, had in fact been targeted for murder by his father’s advisers, because of a secret prophecy that foretold he would bring about the destruction of Night.

  ‘The prophecy was crystal clear,’ said my father. ‘While the child lived, Night was in danger. Something had to be done. For the sake of the many, one must die.’

  I could hardly breathe as he went on.

  ‘But it couldn’t take place in Night, for his blood would taint the land and destroy its future. It had to be done in Krainos. If my mother had still been alive, it would never have happened. But she was not, and my father was weak and easily led. In the end he did as his counsellors said and sent his child to Krainos. There, the deed would be done, in time, and in such a way that it would never come to light. My brother was a sickly and delicate child. No doubt my father had hoped nature would be merciful and forestall the assassin’s blade.’ He paused. ‘A hunter was employed to take the child into the Forest, kill him and bury him so deep that he’d never be found. But faced with the task, he could not do it. Instead, he gave the child to a woodcutter and his wife, with strict instructions that the boy was never allowed to leave the Forest or have anything to do with feyin. He did not know precisely who the boy was, or who wanted him dead, only that he was feyin. To his paymaster he reported that the boy was dead, and then he left Krainos, never to return.’

  My father broke off abruptly, as if he were choking on his words. The Commander remained silent, huddled in his chair as though he were trapped in a spell. Only his eyes seemed alive, full of such fathomless horror that it were as though he were staring straight into the pit of hell.

  Seeing that the Prince still could not speak, the Erlking took up the narrative. ‘That man came to live in a remote corner of Almain. He nearly took the secret to his grave. But just a few days ago, upon his deathbed, he confessed to a neighbour – one of the few people he ever spoke to – for he was a savage, solitary man. This neighbour was an old feyin woman, and when she heard what the hunter had to say, she remembered a young prisoner long ago …’

  ‘A young man who’d once worked for one of my enemies, as she had,’ said the Grand Duke, speaking for the first time. ‘Long since, she’s been reconciled to us. She came to find me, and told of what she’d heard.’ He gestured to the Erlking. ‘And I told Florizel.’

  I could hear what he was saying, but the meaning of it was quite lost. All that had meaning was the stricken look in the eyes of the man who had tried to save me, then tried to kill me – a man who had done great wrongs, but to whom a wrong far greater than anything else had been done. The same kind of thing the men of Krainos had planned to visit upon me, that he had saved me from, without knowing why.

  It was the most savage and yet thrilling irony of fate, and my heart quailed within me as I cried out, ‘Oh, Father, how is it that you did not tell us this at once? Why did you ask us to have the last word, when you knew we had no knowledge of this?’

  ‘Because, my daughter,’ he said, ‘if I had, then neither you nor Kasper would have done what you did. Knowing he was my brother – knowing he was your uncle – how could you look upon him just as a man and give a fair judgement?’ He paused, then added softly, ‘And if I had done as you say, perhaps we would not know the truth – the buried truth you and Kasper drew out of my brother’s heart.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right, Father,’ I said and placed the crystal into his hand. ‘And now I do not need this anymore, Father, but your brother, my uncle, certainly does.’

  Our eyes met. I had never seen such a look on my father’s face before – a look that always before I’d thought of as too human for his proud soul. It was humility mixed with hope.

  ‘I think you are right, my dearest Izolda,’ he replied. He walked to his brother, Alek, who sat with bowed head and stricken eyes. ‘I cannot undo the wrong that was done to you, brother, nor can you undo the one you did to us. All I ask you is this: will you take the crystal heart?’ He held the crystal out on its string, where it flashed with myriad lights.

  For a moment, it seemed as though the Commander would not respond, and we all held our breaths. Then with shaking hands he reached out to the crystal, took it and held it in the palm of his hand. At last, he glanced up. He looked terrible, as though he’d aged twenty years – his skin grey, his eyes mere hollows like that of a skull. He met my father’s eyes – met his brother’s eyes! – and in a voice so faint that it was scarcely audible, he said, ‘I cannot take this.’

  ‘Of course you can, brother.’ My father pointed to my mother’s portrait. ‘I gave it to Irina long ago. And if she were here, she would want you to have this too, for she was always saddened that I’d lost my brother. She was a loving heart, a pure soul. Take it for her sake, if not mine.’

  There was a lump in my throat as I listened to his words. Love for my father flooded warm through me, and respect and admiration, too. He was a great man, and looking at Kasper’s expression, I saw he felt the same way.

  ‘Then I will take it,�
� the Commander said shakily, ‘though I do not think I deserve it, nor can I see how what I have done can ever be forgotten.’

  ‘As to forgetting, that has never been one of my talents,’ said my father, with a humorous twitch of the lips. ‘Nor, I think, one of yours.’

  ‘You are right,’ said the Commander, slipping the crystal heart around his neck and getting up.

  ‘It is fortunate, brother, because forgetting is the last thing we must do,’ my father said gravely. ‘If we are to make our present and future whole, then we must not ignore the broken past.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Commander, quietly. ‘But there is one thing I must ask you not to remember.’

  ‘What is that?’ said my father.

  ‘That I was once the first-born son of Night,’ replied the Commander, his eyes fixed on his brother’s face.

  It was a reassurance and a pledge. He was telling his brother – the Prince of Night – that whatever happened, he had no designs on his throne.

  My father nodded. ‘Thank you, brother.’ He extended a shy hand to the Commander, who took it, and they clasped hands briefly. The simple gesture was not what you might dream of between reunited brothers, but I knew it was the right one for the moment. So much had separated them, so much divided them, so much needed to be repaired and healed, and it would not be an easy task. But this would do for a start. It would do very well.

  My father called the impassive guards to escort the Commander, not back to his cell, but to some new quarters in the Palace where he would be looked after.

  As he turned to go, the Commander looked back at Kasper. ‘You said I chose you for the Tower Guard because I’d seen something in you, Kasper Bator. That is so. What I saw was something I had lost long ago. The courage born of a pure and honest heart.’ Before Kasper could reply, the Commander turned to me. ‘I saw your mother in you, Princess Izolda, and your father, too. I only wish I had seen you. Not made of two broken halves, but whole and shining and true.’

  And with that, he was gone.

  Kasper & Izolda

  The bells are ringing. The streets are filled with cheering people. Feyin and human, they mingle in ever-widening streams, for the way between our worlds is wide open now, especially on this great day.

  I am riding in the carriage beside my father, and opposite my uncle, who has renounced his old title of Commander. He refuses to accept the one my father has tried to give him – Lord Losserian. ‘Let me be plain Alek Los,’ he growls, whenever it is raised, just as he shrugs and raises an eyebrow when it’s suggested he might take up residence in the Palace. ‘I prefer the simple life of a traveller,’ he says, and will not be persuaded otherwise. I understand it; he cannot live here, for it is not his home, even if it was once, long, long ago. He comes and stays sometimes, for short periods only, then is off again, wandering to the far corners of the world.

  My father says his brother is seeking something, though he does not know what yet, but he will know it when he finds it. Father has changed, too – there is a gentleness and a peace in him I have never seen before. It does not mean he has lost any of his pride, and it does not mean he does not at times lash out for no good reason. He has not transformed, but he has become … more complete.

  He smiles at me. ‘Are you nervous, my daughter?’

  ‘A little,’ I answer honestly.

  ‘Then I will not tell you that you should not be,’ he says.

  My uncle grunts. ‘Just as well, as she would no sooner listen to you on the matter, Caraden, as the wind in the trees. But if you want my view, my dear Izolda, I would venture that your young man is feeling a good deal more nervous than you right now.’

  I am waiting in a side sacristy with my parents and sisters by my side. Outside we can hear the roar of the crowd. Inside the cathedral are kings, queens, emperors, prime ministers and presidents, dignitaries of all sorts, both feyin and human.

  It is not the thought of all those august faces turning to me as I walk to stand before the two archbishops – one from Night, one from Krainos – that scares me. It is not the thought of the crowds outside that spook me. It is the fear that I will be deemed unworthy.

  Yes, many things have changed for me and for my country. After the Supreme Council was dissolved last year and our new Parliament was formed in Krainos, I was elected Deputy for our region, and I am discovering how things work in government, though there is still so very much to learn. And yes, the Prince of Night has warmed to me a good deal in the past year, and I, too, understand a good deal more about the ways and customs of Night. Essentially, though, I am still Kasper Bator from Fish-the-Moon, a man of simple tastes who thinks nothing is more wonderful than the times I can escape to the cottage in the woods with my beautiful Izolda. And she loves those times, too, I know; they are as necessary to her as they are to me.

  But always at the back of our minds is the knowledge that for both of us – especially for her – a different future awaits. I remember the promise I made to her father, and I intend to keep it. But will I truly be worthy? Will I truly be able to give her what she needs? I want nothing ever to part us, and certainly not due to my lack of courage.

  The trumpets sound. My mother clutches my arm. ‘It is time, my son,’ she says, clasping my hand. ‘Are you ready?’

  Her eyes are shining. She has been through so much on account of me – great suffering and great joy – yet now she is calmer than I am. I kiss her, kiss my sisters and hug my father. Then they leave me to go and sit in the front pew, leaving me alone with the ceremonial usher who will lead me in. Offering up a final prayer, both to the Lady and to the Angels, I compose myself and follow the usher with a steady step.

  Stepping out of the carriage, all I can discern is a sea of faces, from end to end of the cathedral square. All I can hear is the collective voice of the crowd as it roars its approval of us. My father steps out first, then my uncle, to accompanying cheers; then together, they help me out of the carriage. And what cheers there are then! It humbles me, scares me, thrills me in equal measure. Arm in arm with my father and my uncle, I walk slowly up the steps, and all I can think is: he will be here, at the end of this walk. It is the longest walk of my life and yet the shortest. Into my memory flashes our story, our life together so far – the suffering and tumult of the past, the happiness of the present, this year which has gone like a joyful flash. May nothing ever come between us, and nothing part us ever again.

  The cathedral doors open. Another sea of faces. No cheers or roars, for the crowd here is far too well-bred for exuberance. But there are smiles and soft murmurs of approval, and if we pass certain people of my father’s court who can’t quite look wholeheartedly happy, or some in the parliamentary delegation of Krainos who look a little askance at the presence of my uncle, then they are of no account, and what they think does not matter. For the world is not perfect. Even in the best of times there are those who are envious or spiteful or simply incapable of knowing hope when they see it. What matters is the others, and they are the greater part of us, and together we are strong.

  My uncle leaves us and takes his seat while I keep walking with Father. I pass Glarya and Amadey, who are looking like they’ll burst with happiness (they are not long married themselves), and then Kasper’s family, joyfully smiling. I know them a little now, and have grown to like them very much, and they me, though at first they were very nervous and inclined to drop curtsies and bow (I have finally persuaded them not only to stop that, but to call me by my given name). On my father’s arm, I walk towards the altar.

  I can see my love standing there on his own, broad-shouldered and straight-backed in an unfamiliarly splendid navy-blue dress uniform, his glossy raven-black hair waving above its collar. I know he will be trying hard to keep his features composed, like me. He will be trying to look natural, trying to seem as if he were not thoroughly spooked at all these eyes on him.

  The trumpets keep playing, yet oddly it feels as though a great silence has descended around me. I
t is as though I am in a bubble of silence. Involuntarily, my hand slips to my throat, and the crystal heart I am wearing as my single ornament, and feel it warm to my touch. To wear it had been my uncle’s idea. Today of all days, I should take it back, he had said.

  We are nearly there when Kasper turns. I see I was wrong. His handsome face is not composed at all, but alight with love. The breath catches in my throat as I come towards him.

  As Izolda advances towards me on her father’s arm, so radiantly beautiful that my heart clenches with the wonder of it, she does not look anywhere but at me, and I do not look anywhere but at her. It is as though we are alone, here in this huge place filled with people. And in that moment my fears leave me and I know without a shred of a doubt that it does not matter where we are, whether in a cottage in the woods or in the State rooms of a palace, as long as we are together. Our love will always be our strength, our shield and our comfort, and it will never fail us, through all of our life to come.

  Also by Sophie Masson

  (Random House Australia)

  Moonlight & Ashes

  Scarlet in the Snow

  Written as Isabelle Merlin

  Three Wishes

  Pop Princess